


Perdita

by ceresilupin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ableist Language, Animal Death, Cats, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Gen, M/M, Past Child Abandonment, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceresilupin/pseuds/ceresilupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera needs Cole's help with something, and others get roped in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perdita

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for child abandonment/abuse, animal death, and the slur 'daftie' from Sera to Cole.
> 
> For the kink meme! (http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10859.html?thread=46159723#t46159723)
> 
> Someone posted this picture on Tumblr: http://endrae.tumblr.com/image/104419306777. Cole with cats! It’s cute and much more cheerful than this ended up being.

Cole hears her shouting for him.

He is by the surgeon’s tent, where there is a small woven mat set out for him. He is braiding pieces of grass and listening. Just down the way, the workers have finished clearing the path to the barn. He’d thought she was there, watching, and apparently she had been. But she’s not there anymore.

Now she’s looking for him.

She knows where he usually is. She ‘finds’ him right away, but of course, she doesn’t _see_ him. She doesn’t even notice that something compels her not to kick the empty-looking mat. She snarls and growls and climbs on the nearby rocks, peering behind tents, even poking at the dirt like she thinks he might have buried himself.

Sera is weird. It’s not nice of him to think so, but he knows it’s true.

He wants to ignore her, but she’s making too much noise. Silently, of course, because she stopped cursing a few moments ago. He sits and watches as she crosses her arms, frowning into the distance.

Her anger is fading. Paling. Replaced by unhappy dread. _Little, little, so little, poor little broken body. Fell from the rafter and the soldier broke its neck as it cried. Didn’t even try to save him. Poor little one. Not its fault. The little ones always get hurt—_

Light dawns. She’s looking for him for a _reason._ She wants him to _help._

He can help!

Quietly, he asks, “Are you looking for me?”

Sera startles. He half-expects to see her hair stand on end. A knife bounces off the stone by his head, missing his face by mere inches. Sera has good aim.

Curious, he picks up the little dagger and turns it over, inspecting its shape. He holds it out to her carefully, his view of her face blocked by the brim of his hat. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, right, freaky-freako.” Sera huffs and yanks the knife away, roughly enough that it nicks his fingers and they bleed. “C’mon, get off your big lazy bum. Time to do some work for me.”

Cole clambers to his feet. “You want me to help?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you call it.” Twitching – she doesn’t want to be seen with him – Sera takes a few steps ahead. “C’mon, hurry it up!”

~

The barn is a shamble. Light peeks in through the broken roof, only to be blocked by cracked and fallen beams. One hayloft is completely collapsed. The other is stuffed with the decaying remains of old bunk beds, weapons racks, and other junk. What little sunlight makes it through the rafters illuminates patches of rucked-up dirt floor. There’s a skeleton of a horse in one corner. The air is musty.

It hurts. Not because of the horse or the old furniture. Because of Sera, and the memory of the broken little thing on the ground, the memory of when it was alive.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Cole tells her, to try to assuage the pain coming off her.

“Don’t say that,” Sera snarls, through gritted teeth. “All unfeeling like that. It hurt once, that’s bad enough.”

Cole presses. “But it doesn’t hurt _anymore._ ”

“I said don’t!” Sera lifts her hand like she’s going to smack him, but she just rubs her face instead. Cole doesn’t move. He would have let her. “It hurt then. I heard it cry. That was its last moments, falling, and then – that.”

They’re standing on either side of the dead kitten’s body, scantly illuminated by the dying rays of light. Sera’s head is bowed and she’s glaring at their feet, hard, trying to be angry so she won’t cry. Cole peers up at her carefully from under the brim of his hat.

He doesn’t know how to help. She didn’t ask him here for herself. But she can’t say what she wants – she doesn’t want to cry in front of him.

They might have stayed like that indefinitely, trapped in a deadlock, if not for the heavy sound of a booted foot. Cole recognizes Blackwall before he speaks. “What’re you two kids doing in here? It’s not cleared yet, could be dangerous.”

“None of your business,” Sera mutters, surly and plainly upset. “Get lost, already.”

Blackwall just huffs. Cole can feel his suspicion – _might be a demon, might be possessing that kid. Looks like a kid. Half-starved. Inquisitor says no, but what does she know? She’s no mage._

_Wants to give him a chance. Everyone deserves a chance._

_‘Cept me. And I’m the one who gets it. Just proves she doesn’t know as much as she thinks._

“What’s going on here?” Blackwall says again, firmer, but it’s a distraction. A diversion. Cole can feel that he’s already softened inside, against his own will. The big hand on that settles on his shoulder is gentle.

The air changes the minute Blackwall sees the kitten. He crouches and picks it up carefully, gently. Sera blinks rapidly and Cole flinches. Should he stop him? He’s hurting her. Blackwall’s hurting Sera. Not on purpose though. With his kindness. His gentleness. The soldier wasn’t kind to the kitten, just like the soldiers that weren’t kind to the elf-kids.

Still crouched, Blackwall inspects the little body. He glances up and seems to piece together what happened. “Must have fallen from the rafters,” he decides. “Broke his spine. But someone else broke his neck.” He looks up at Cole, eyebrows drawn, regretful but stern. “Your work?”

Cole shakes his head mutely, but Sera is already exploding. “No, it was him! That cunt-rupturing ass-fucker soldier – he just – he just picked her up and—“ Sera stops. Cole can feel her biting back a scream. “What does he know, eh?” she finally cries. “What gives him the right?“ She glares bloody murder at Blackwall with red-rimmed eyes.

The big man holds up a hand. “All right, just calm down—“

“ _No_ I _won’t_ calm down, you can go fuck yourself, you fucking—“

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Cole says, quiet, wondering if he can blend in with the background noise so that she won’t notice him, and thus accept him, and his words. The Inquisitor made him promise to do no memory tricks on the rest of the team, so this is all he can do.

Words. Words are hard.

“It was all he could do,” Cole continues. Blackwall is watching him steadily and Sera is glowering at the ground, almost on the verge of weeping. “It couldn’t be healed. Dying.”

Blackwall’s furrowed brow eases. “True enough,” he says heavily, and straightens, wrapping the kitten’s body in a handkerchief. He’s already planning to bury it outside the walls. A sad little grave for a sad little life. “Not everyone can be saved.”

He’s thinking of himself. He thinks _he_ can’t be saved. He lives without hope for himself, just hope that he can help somebody else. He’s like Cole. But he’s not like Cole, because there’s a selfish little nugget of want inside him. He wants someone to help him. Deep down, he thinks that if he’s good enough, he’ll feel better. He hates himself for thinking that – for being selfish – but sometimes he thinks that it’s the closest thing he has to strength. To keep going, to keep wanting. To get better.

The Inquisitor helps him. The Inquisitor helps Sera, too.

Cole isn’t as good as the Inquisitor. But he’ll try.

“Did you want me to find the rest of the litter?” Cole asks Sera. Blackwall pauses in his restless movements and stares at him. Sera scowls, or tries to, but there’s something hopeful in her face. She has that selfish little nugget, too. “Is that why you searched for me?”

~

“Up there.”

“ _Up there,_ ” Sera mimics cruelly. “There’s a lot of _up there_ up there, narrow it down, daftie!”

“I can’t.” Cole pauses, frowning. Sera is standing on Blackwall’s shoulders, peering into the rafters as Cole tries to guide them. “I can’t hear their voices. They don’t have words.”

“Maybe—“ Blackwall pauses. Sera isn’t heavy, but it can’t be comfortable, a full-grown elf-woman standing on his shoulders. He doesn’t protest, but he is wincing a little. “Maybe try a direction? Left, or right?”

Cole frowns, thinking. Listening. Sera makes hopeful little kissing noises, but these are feral kittens. They won’t know to come.

“Left,” he finally decides. “I think.”

The ungainly Blackwall-Sera combination staggers left. Sera yelps as her head bounces off a beam and Blackwall grits out an apology.

“No,” Cole corrects himself. “Right.”

Blackwall and Sera turn to glare at him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Words are hard.

They go right. Sera almost topples backwards and grabs a double-handful of Blackwall’s hair. He shouts and curses. She curses right back, sounding almost cheerful. Cole is perplexed, but hopeful that things have stopped hurting. Well, except for Blackwall’s head. They continue moving, ungainly and swearing creatively, while Cole calls out the occasional instruction. It’s hard to focus over Sera’s giggling, but it’s better than her despair.

“What in the _world_ is going on in here?”

Uh-oh.

Cole turns slowly, hiding his face with his hat. He’d been distracted, or he would have heard her coming. There is no mistaking the feeling of Vivienne’s mind – she’s not loud, but she has _presence_.

She is standing in the doorway, traced dramatically by the dying rays of sun. One elegant brown hand is planted on one curving hip; her nose is wrinkled in distaste, Cole knows, although he can’t see it. Her coolly analytic mind probes at him the way the surgeon probes at the dead. She takes them apart so she can understand how they work, and that’s what Vivienne wants to do to him, too.

The Inquisitor always worries that Vivienne hates Cole, but she doesn’t. She hates dirtiness, and waste, and evil. She _watches_ him, though, and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s just because he’s usually hiding? Or maybe it’s because, deep down, he is still a spirit. Spirits can become demons, if someone convinces them to. Maybe he’s afraid she’ll convince him, in time.

“Sera found some kittens,” Cole mumbles. Vivienne enters the barn reluctantly, brushing invisible dirt off her sleeve. “But we can’t find them.” He pauses, and then adds, “I’m helping.”

“So I see, child.” Vivienne steps past him and regards Blackwall and Sera with that same disconcerting gaze. “You would have more luck, I think, with a light of some sort.”

Sera bares her teeth and snarls. Blackwall steadies her, either because she’s about to fall again, or because he thinks she’s going to charge and attack like a feral beast. Cole wouldn’t put it past her.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he says, stolidly. He’s embarrassed at being caught this way by her, her and all her fanciness, but determined not to show it. “I hope we didn’t disturb you, Lady Vivienne.”

Sera rolls her eyes and mutters something profane.

Vivienne ignores her. “Of course not, my dear.” She reaches into a pocket – Cole is briefly fascinated, and diverted; _how_ does she have pockets? Her clothes don’t have enough room! – and takes out a little stone. The air sways as she pulls on her magic, and the stone begins to glow.

“Perhaps this will help,” she says, and the stone floats from her palm, approaching the shadowed rafters. Little voices, tiny and faint, stir and rouse in alarm at the nearby movement. They are weak, very weak, and cold and alone, but—

“I can hear them!” Cole gasps. “Over there!”

This time, he points. Sera uses Blackwall’s hair to steer him like a horse, ignoring his stumbles and curses, until he’s in the right spot. And then, with an elf’s easy grace, she grabs a secure rafter and pulls herself up, with nothing but the strength of her arms. Cole watches, amazed, as she wraps her legs around the beam and twists until she’s straddling it, and then standing atop it. She holds her arms straight from her sides, balancing as she walks forward several feet, and then crouches carefully.

“Got ‘em!” she crows triumphantly. Blackwall huffs a laugh, grinning. “There’s a little nest and everything. Hey there, little-littles, where’s your mummy? Did she run off? Mummies are like that, mummies are bad, shh shh now.”

Their other voices – their mortal voices – are loud now, crying in curiosity and alarm. Sera is speaking in lilting words, soft and tender, something Cole has never heard from her. _Safe,_ Cole thinks to them. It almost never works for humans or elves or dwarves, but perhaps he’ll have more luck with kittens. _Safe, she’s safe, she’s mother. Safe, safe._

Maybe it’s him, or maybe the kittens recognize the kindness in her voice, but they do not try to escape as Sera gathers them up. She wraps them securely in a blanket that Blackwall passes up to her, murmuring as they mewl and cry. They are too little and weak to move much anyway.

Carefully, Sera hands the burden to Blackwall, and then drops to land effortlessly on her feet. Vivienne, watching with a mind as polished and remote as her expression, waits until she is on the ground before summoning back her light-stone.

Cole watches her put it away, fascinated. He is going to figure this out. He can always use more pockets. He _loves_ pockets. Almost as much as hats.

“All right, then.” Blackwall leads them out into the courtyard, carrying his fragile load carefully. Cole blinks as the setting sun floods his face and adjusts his hat. “Now what?”

~

They find a crate. Half of a crate. The top half is gone, but that’s good. Sera brings armfuls of hay to line the bottom, and Cole covers it with a fresh blanket from Master Dennett. Vivienne lifts each kitten from Blackwall’s arms, inspecting their mouths, eyes, and between their hind paws, before placing them gently in their new home.

This done, the four of them stand around the crate and watch the kittens stumble over each other and meow. Well, the three of them stand around. Vivienne is nearby, watching, but aloof. A couple stablehands and off-duty soldiers are nearby, and a couple of the younger ones have been brave enough to come forward and pet the kittens.

“They’re little,” Sera says decisively. “Too little for mice. They need milk.”

“Mother’s milk,” Blackwall agrees. “Which we don’t have.”

Sera’s becoming afraid again. Cole feels heavy. Bleak. He can’t help this hurt.

“ _I_ know what you need,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Although it embarrasses me to admit it.” They turn as one – except, again, for Vivienne, still looking on in faint amusement – to find a tall human man. Cole, uncomfortable with strangers, looks at nothing but his feet (clad in heavy metal boots) and his arms (strong and pale, with heavy gauntlets). He is a mage. His accent is Fereldan.

At the stranger’s side is a familiar face, visible even to Cole’s downturned gaze. Varric nods to Cole, and then is distracted by the crate. “Is that – a box of kittens?”

“Varric, who’s this rich tosser?” Sera demands.

“ _Sera_ ,” Blackwall sighs. He holds out a hand to the man. “We haven’t met. Blackwall.”

“Hawke,” the man says, and they shake. “I would wait for Varric to introduce us, but he has no manners.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Varric says mildly. He stomps over to stand beside Cole and stare into the box. “That _is_ a box of kittens. Kid, Buttercup, what’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” Sera mutters, sullen. “Nothing, s’not my fault. Quit looking at me!”

Varric redirects his gaze to Cole. Cole shrugs.

“Champion,” Vivienne says, gliding forward. “I am Vivienne, First Enchanter to the Imperial Court. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Hawke bows. Cole’s not sure, but he’s pretty sure he does it right. There’s a lot of rules about bowing, and Vivienne knows them all, not that her knowledge helps him much. Even if Hawke did it right or wrong, her emotions wouldn’t change. But Blackwall knows them, too, and he’s much easier to impress – and he is impressed.

“The pleasure is all mine, Madame,” Hawke says smoothly. “I hope Varric has spoken well of me.”

“With great fondness,” she assures him.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Varric agrees, shrugging. “You were kind of a pain in the ass, though, so don’t blame me if some unsavory stories are circulating.”

“The less I know about your ‘unsavory stories’ about me,” Hawke says, with finality, “the better.” He comes around to stand beside Varric, and perforce, Cole. But aside from a brief, curious glance, he takes no notice of him. He crouches as reaches out to pet the kittens. “I know of a milk mixture you can use. Although you might not have all the ingredients. . . .” He pauses, thinking. “A little elfroot mixed in should help, too.”

“Of course,” Vivienne murmurs. The tips of her fingers rest on her perfect lips as she watches the man pet the kittens. Blackwall shouts and waves over a page, one of the kids who are too young to fight but have signed on to be trained as soldiers in the meantime. Hawke dictates the list of ingredients – a pipette, milk, pumpkin mash, eggs, some kind of strange chemical that Varric promises they have – and then the boy runs off.

They wait for the page to return in silence. Varric nudges Hawke with the toe of his boot. “How _do_ you know all this?”

Cole can see his face now. His expression is sardonic. “You really have to ask?”

“Ah, that’s right. Blondie. How many’re you two up to now?”

Hawke pulls a face. “Not _that_ many,” he grumbles. He’s lying, though. Cole can tell. “We’ve been giving them to Merrill and Carver lately. To try and thin out the herd.” He pauses meditatively. “It’s not really working.”

“Aw, yeah, Daisy loves her some kittens. Must be a mage thing. _Do_ all mages like cats?” Varric glances up at Vivienne.

She raises her eyebrows. “I will neither confirm nor deny,” she says placidly. Her eyes had flickered as she listened to Hawke and Varric’s conversation, particularly at the nickname _Blondie._ It’s hard to tell – she’s always so indifferent – but Cole senses that her opinion of Hawke has suddenly soured.

Blackwall stirs suddenly. “Hey – where’s Sera gone to?”

After glancing about, Varric and Blackwall look to Cole. Hawke, following their lead, does as well. Vivienne, of course, had looked to him right away.

“She went away,” Cole says. “While you were talking.”

Hawke looks at Varric. “But these are her kittens,” Blackwall says, puzzled. “She should be here.”

“Better, for their sake, that she is not,” Vivienne mutters. Blackwall is too polite – also too intimidated – to glare at her directly, but he does frown.

“She’ll turn up,” Varric promises. “Hawke, you know you’re taking some of these furballs home, right? Give one to Aveline. She likes cute things.”

Hawke chuckles. “And here you promised that you would never tell.”

~

The page comes back, with the ingredients, and the Inquisitor, Leliana, and Josephine in tow. The Inquisitor seems to be drawn in by the small crowd gathering outside the barn, while Leliana and Josephine shamelessly admit that they are there for the kittens. Cole lets himself be phased out to the edges of the crowd, basking in their happiness. Everyone who pets the little animals becomes happy. And the kittens are happy, too, warm and full.

It soothes him. Steels him for what’s coming next. There is still hurt for him to heal.

Unlike Sera, he doesn’t have to stomp about shouting in order to find someone. He knows exactly where she is. Blackwall had been planning for somewhere outside the walls, but Sera chooses behind the barn.

He finds her kneeling in the mud, digging a hole with her knife – the same knife she had thrown at him earlier. The first kitten, still wrapped in Blackwall’s handkerchief, rests beside her knee.

Cole stands over her, watching a bit, while she ignores him. He deliberately made himself visible when approaching, so she wouldn’t try to stab him again. But she is locked away in her mind for now, the same way Vivienne always is. But while Vivienne’s silences are fueled by control, Sera’s is fueled by despair. A dark little eddy of _no dawn, no morning coming, some of us give up all hope of sunrise._

He leaves to find a box. When he explains things to the surgeon, she gives him one that had been used to store potions. He thanks her, because Solas would say that’s what he should do, and goes.

The hole is bigger and deeper now. Sera stops digging as Cole lines the box with hay – there’s lots of it around – and then places the kitten’s body inside. The lid of the box closes with a snap.

When he glances up, out from under his hat, Sera is watching him. For once, she is more curious than hostile.

“Where’d you get that?” she asks. She indicates the box with a jerk of her chin. “It’s nice. Didju steal it? If someone comes looking for it, I won’t cover for you. M’not risking my place here for you, daftie.”

“The surgeon gave it to me,” Cole mumbles.

Her brow furrows. “The ser-whatsis?”

“The surgeon,” Cole says. “The doctor. She’s a doctor. She makes people better.”

Sera is still frowning, but it’s more at the world in general, not just at him. She takes the box, stroking the heavy, polished sides. Cole can feel her coveting it, and it confuses him. It’s just a thing. But Sera likes things, she is hungry for them, downright greedy. They fill up her empty inside. He wonders if she will bury the kitten but keep the box for herself.

It would be okay, if she did. All he wants is to help ease her hurt.

But she puts the box in the hole, and begins sweeping dirt over it. She’s a muddy mess. Vivienne would be horrified.

Cole helps her. The knicks on his hand get caked with dirt and they sting. But he’s thinking about her, the heart-squeeze-pain in her chest, and trying to figure out how to help.

“Quit that,” she finally says. He glances up at her cautiously, but keeps shoveling dirt. He knows that’s not what she meant – he just doesn’t know what she _did_ mean. “Quit thinking so loud. Can hear you clear over here. Ridiculous.”

“Sorry,” Cole mumbles.

Sera grunts.

When the hole is filled, they stand together. Sera thrusts her knife into the ground, marking the grave. It’s the same way that soldiers mark the graves of their friends with their friends’ swords. It’s an old knife, he can tell. The hilt has been worn down by her fingers. It’s sharp and polished. She’s had it for a long time.

“Kitten’s Tooth,” Sera says. Cole looks at her and she indicates the dagger. “That’s what she called it. Long time ago.”

It hurts to be here. Beside her. “Who?”

“My mum.” Sera is brief, blank, staring into the past. “Before she left.”

Cole has never had the gift Solas has, where the Fade re-enacts the world around him. He can’t see the past. But for a minute he thinks he can; because once Sera says this – once she looks down at the grave with her heart full of feeling and sadness – she turns and walks away. She leaves. And Cole swears he can see her mother’s ghostly silhouette, doing the same thing beside her. Walking away, scared off by humans, leaving her brave little baby to fall and die.

~

The next day, one of the new soldiers falls off the battlements. Whatever made him trip causes him to fall inside, towards the courtyard, not towards the mountain. It would still have killed him, though. Broken his spine for sure.

But something catches him. Something no one else notices, or can even see. Not even Sera, up on the watchtower roof, watching her clever trap go off.

“You have to leave,” Cole tells the shocked, horrified man. “Or you’ll die.” He pauses sadly. “After this, I won’t be able to help you.”

~

It’s a long time before Hawke finally leaves Skyhold. It’s edging into springtime, or even summer. The sun is high, the sky is bright and blue. The deep shadows cast by the castle are cold, though, and the wind comes over the walls, harsh and biting. The stables are new and clean, warmed by Blackwall’s fire. They smell of healthy horse and fresh hay.

Hawke has a special wicker basket for two kittens on the back of his horse. The rest have been adopted by others – one for Josephine’s office, one to pester Leliana’s birds and the mages in the library, one for the stables with Blackwall, and one for Vivienne’s nook. They all have names, and families, and when they’re not fed smuggled treats, they fill their bellies with the castle’s mice.

“Thought she might come say goodbye,” Hawke says. Cole hadn’t announced himself, but somehow Hawke always knows when he’s nearby. He lifts the lid to pet the cats, who have been lulled into dozing by some herbs provided by Dorian. “She didn’t take any of them.”

“She said goodbye last night,” Cole says. He watches Hawke pet the little animals. They purr and turn, showing their bellies trustingly. Hawke smiles absently. “When no one could see.”

Hawke closes the lid. “I’m surprised she didn’t take one.” He checks his other saddlebags and then hooks his hands into his belt. “Blackwall said she’s the one who rescued them.”

“Yes,” Cole agrees, distantly. “She wanted me to help her find it.”

Hawke’s eyebrow twitches. “It? Not them?”

“And them,” Cole corrects.

Hawke tilts his head, pondering, and then huffs a wry laugh. He’s still drawn and tired after the recent battle in the Fade, but he doesn’t want to stay any longer. He misses his partner. He hurts when he’s away from him. And he worries.

“All right,” Hawke says, mounting up with a weary sigh. “I’ll bite. What’s ‘it’?”

Cole is surprised he has to ask. It’s written all over him; its fingers are in his soul. He’s never had it for himself, but he’s won it for others. “Justice,” he says, as if it should be obvious.

Hawke looks at him for a moment, long and steady as his horse fidgets, and then rides away.

No one else notices Cole as he wanders around the courtyard. He stops by a recently repaired wall, where the hollow interior is still exposed. There are lots of rats living inside the walls, but also foxes and cats. He has a hiding space in this one, a soft place to sit, where mortal noises are muffled and soul-voices are soft but clear.

Inside is a little mother. Sometimes she remembers she’s supposed to have babies, and goes looking for them, scared and confused. He’d waited and waited, until he heard her searching for them, crying in the night, and then he went to her side. She distrusts humans. But he’s not human, after all.

She sits in his lap, and Cole helps her forget. He tips his head back, and listens as she purrs.


End file.
